The Truth (Revisited)
by AlphaDerekMakesMeDrool
Summary: Just decided to re-write this story, because I was getting followers but not reviews. It may go slightly differently than I originally intended, don't know yet but this is just a more detailed better written version of THE TRUTH! Rating is defo set to change, I'm looking forward


He walked into the house, sliding of his jacket and hanging it on the end of the banister. It was quiet, but then it was 2am. Stiles would be asleep. No, something was wrong, he was unable to hear the steady beat of his son's heart. The sound he relied upon to grant reassurance that Stiles was safe, his abilities were not as well honed as they once had been. He breathed deeply, inhaling the sharp scent of rusting iron. No! Blood! He forced his panic down and as he ascended the stairs.

"Stiles" he called, fighting back the panic in his voice.

"Stiles, you up here?" he waited for a reply, but he knew it wouldn't come.

After a few seconds he ran to his son's room. Stiles' room was empty, he could still hear the weakening heartbeat and the arid, tangy aroma of blood had gotten stronger. He could pinpoint now that it was coming from the bathroom. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew his phone and proceeded to make the 911 call, as he aproached the room. Suddenly he was terrified, as he tried not to contemplate what awaited him on the other side. Opening the door his heart was in his throat. The water in the bathtub was red and Stiles was submerged in it, his head just barely above the surface. Listening he could hear his son's heartbeat, hear that he was still fighting to cling to life.

With ease he lifted his son's small frame out of the water and laid him on the floor, he grabbed a towel to preserve Stiles' modesty. Before he noticed Stiles had already taken care of that, he was wearing loose canvas running shorts. In spite of the intense situation he allowed himself to chuckle, as he wrapped the towel around Stiles and bundled more towels around his wrists, before he carried him downstairs. It was better if he was in the hall when the paramedics arrived, they could get him to hospital quicker. He wished he could just bite Stiles, it would be the quickest and easiest way to save him. But Stiles' heartbeat indicated that he wasn't strong enough to take the bite and the bite should be given by a mate anyway.

He also could risk exposing himself to the Argents, as a werewolf. Although it was more likely that they'd blame Derek and start hunting him and the "Hale Pack", for violating the terms of one of their horrifically self-serving treaties. He laid Stiles gently on the floor. Sitting with one leg on each side of his son's prone body, he pulled his son up to lie against his chest and wrapped his arms around him. Disappointed and almost heartbroken, that the best he could do for his cub was keep him warm until help arrived. He'd been a member of a once great wolf pack. Now he was under the radar, in an effort to preserve his only remaining family.

"Stiles, it's daddy don't go to sleep on me. Please, you're my cub and I need you to fight." he whispered gently.

"That's it cub stay with me."

He knew, he was struggling to keep his emotions in check. He never called Stiles cub, it was always son or Stiles, he trained himself a long time ago not to say cub. But he always wanted to, because Stiles was more than his son, he was his cub and now seemed like a good time to call him that. He wanted to fight, to retaliate, but Stiles' injuries were self-inflicted. What could have driven him to such extreme action? John's abilities to sense/smell emotion where being repressed by a Wolf's Bane potion. He'd no idea how long his cub had quietly endured the pain that eventually drove him to slit his wrists.

"Sheriff?"

"He slit his wrists, I don't know how long it's been. Do what you have to."

The paramedics got to work, bandaging Stiles' wrists tightly, then they headed for Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. John sat quietly in the back of the Ambulance willing Stiles to wake up. The Sheriff's presense meant that Stiles was seen by a doctor impossibly quickly, after stitches, fresh bandages and a blood transfusion. Stiles was on the ward, his heartbeat still slow. But it was the slow that comes with sleep, not the terrifying slow, of near death, it had been hours earlier. John pulled the curtain and gripped Stiles hand tightly, watching as the black veins crept over his son's arms. He couldn't take his cub's pain away earlier, but doing it now helped, made him feel less usless.

Footsteps approached, so John relinquished his grip on Stiles' hand. Without warning or invitation Derek Hale peered round the edge of the curtain. His face remorselessly showed the sheer exhaustion he felt, he clearly hadn't slept in days. Probably the Alpha Pack keeping him on alert, training the rest of the wolves and generally getting on with things was taking it's toll. Derek smiled as he gazed at Stiles, John immediately saw the significance of the smile. It wasn't the smile of somebody glad to see a friend getting better, it was deeper more heartfelt. Possibly the smile of somebody who's life has just been saved.

Suddenly it was crystal clear why Stiles had tried to take his own life. Derek was his mate, scarred and scared, Derek tried to push Stiles away. Stiles mating instinct must have surfaced already, John was sorry he missed out on such an important event in his cub's life. When Derek started pushing Stiles away, Stiles obeyed his mating instinct "Be with your mate, or be with nobody." and then he tried to take his own life. The Sheriff could kill Derek! Derek was a werewolf, he was a born wolf, he knew about the mating instinct and yet he still pushed Stiles away.

"You're his mate, aren't you Derek?"

"Sheriff?"

"It's a long story, I can't really go into detail here. Take a seat and be here when he wakes up. But know Derek that the only thing keeping me from killing you, is the fact you're my cub's mate and suppressing or ignoring the mating instinct clearly didn't work out for him."

Derek glanced at the Sheriff in a questioning manner, before he noticed the scent of another wolf an Alpha wolf at that. Thinking that the Alpha Pack had followed him here and that Stiles might be in danger, Derek turned on his heel to leave, but the Sheriff grabbed his wrist and stopped him. "It's not the Alpha Pack, it's me!" the Sheriff said. He sat down and gestured for Derek join him. Then they both took Stiles' hands and watched as the tiny black veins surfaced, they poured their energy in to Stiles and watched. Watched as the cub, the mate, the boy, who hadn't been prepared for his supernatural existence, slept. His pain eased and sleep came easier.

"Stiles needs to know the truth, so do you Derek. I'll tell you once he's strong enough to hear what I have to say."


End file.
